Ianto looked up, his expression open, a hint of reverence in his face. "To him, sir." He didn't even need to close his eyes to see Jack laid out, flesh decorated with a neat pattern of incisions. "He doesn't heal quickly until he dies, each cut stays open until the last one is made. Cut his throat, careful only to nick the veins, watch him bleed out."
He pulled in a quiet breath, his pupils blown. "And when he comes back... it's a moment out of time. Warm and bright and dark and perfection. The perfect moment, no past, no future, just the moment. Just being."